Nobody Knew Her Better
by SirMandokarla
Summary: SWTOR: The Legacy. Dar'vao. Lord Kallig. Darth Occlus. She has been known by many names over the years. But who knew her best? Did anyone? Is each person who believes they know her deceived?
1. Chapter 1

The room was simple. The way he preferred it. Nothing more than a place to stand and prepare for battles to come.

Khem Val contemplated how much of a fight this Sith would make of his death. Surely not much. The Sith of this age never did. Khem would never know.

The little Sith held a hand out to keep him back. He obeyed only because of his binding.

A morsel walked in to brag about her accomplishments. The old Sith knew she was lying. The morsel's tantrum availed it nothing.

Khem's little Sith treated the morsel with the contempt she deserved. She treated the old Sith with deference. She follows his orders. Both little Sith and morsel pandered and fauned in their own ways.

They received a mission. It was simple. Kill.

Khem could do that easily. There were no longer battles like those he was used to. They left. The morsel was sent elsewhere.

It was a short trip to the Cathar settlement. The killing was uninspiring. The Cathar died easily. Even the little sith killed many. They were soon ready to return to the old Sith.

The morsel returned shortly after they did. She brought her own prey. The prey was not worth eating. Both Khem and the little Sith watched as it revealed all of its secrets. They were paltry. The morsel insisted they attack in spite of this. Her plan was met with only the little Sith's laughter. The old Sith joined her in reprimanding the morsel.

She rebelled. Broke her leash. Unsurprising. The little Sith offered to feed her to Khem. The old Sith angered Khem by refusing. Maybe the little Sith would ask him to eat the old Sith instead.

She did not.

They left after disposing of the prey.

Their mission was to enable a bombing run on an enemy base. The morsel got in the way. Her renegade attack alerted the Republic forces. Good. More to kill.

The little Sith was not pleased.

The bombing run cleared their path. Khem and his little Sith went out of their way to kill more soldiers. Their path to the enemy general was bloody. Khem knew why. The little Sith was angry. She was enraged by the morsel. The morsel's insolence incensed the little Sith. Her rashness frustrated the little Sith. Her bloodlust bored the little Sith.

Khem liked the morsel. The little Sith was a better Sith when she was angry. The morsel made her a better Sith.

It really was a pleasure to watch Dar'vao go about her work. There was something so enticing about the way she could read her prey, something so akin to Darth Zash's own talents that the elder Sith couldn't help but marvel at her own taste in apprentice.

Taste in vessel, if events had unfolded slightly more fortuitously. As it was, Darth Zash had come to learn a very different perspective on her apprentice. For one thing, it was obvious why the dashade called Dar'vao "little Sith". The twi'lek barely came up to the monster's chest.

Barely came up to Darth Zash's chest. That was something Darth Zash had begun to get used to, begun to enjoy, even. The body of a dashade had its advantages, even if she hadn't been able to get her first choice – well, second choice – of body.

There was a great deal to admire about the little twi'lek's body. A deep shade of blue, a sharply beautiful face, a physique perfected by years of training as an assassin… Perhaps her Force affinity was a little less impressive than that of a Sith Sorceress, but Zash had been willing to make do at the time. After all, she'd been as much impressed by the girl's mind as her body.

Impressed, just as she was in this moment, watching Dar'vao – or Lord Kallig, as she now insisted on being called – croon sweet lies into the ear of a Jedi Padawan.

"Thank you for trusting me," Dar'vao says so earnestly Zash would swear it was genuine if she hadn't made her career on exactly those same lies. Sweet, honeyed words and unguarded honesty. It tended to make Sith complacent. But Jedi? Oh, that was just priceless.

Dar'vao's hands held to the holocron for just a moment as her prey took it from her. "You won't destroy it, will you?" Her face betrayed a hint of worry, even sorrow at the thought of any knowledge being destroyed. A trace of vulnerability.

The Jedi padawan took the holocron from Dar'vao's hands, seeming offended. She glares and snaps, "I promised I wouldn't. A Jedi keeps her word."

And Dar'vao sighed in relief. Her shoulders actually let go of some of the weight they'd seemed to carry on the trip to meet the young padawan. "Yes," Dar'vao said with a muted smile, "you are."

Ashaara hefted the little cube in her hand, inspecting it contemplatively. "Strange," she said. "I've never held one of these before. I expected it to be heavier."

"Its burden is in the knowledge it carries," Dar'vao said, eyeing the device cautiously. "It is enough to drive a Jedi to the Dark Side or a Sith to madness. Your Jedi Council will want to see it."

"Why," the alien – a togruta, if Zash recalled correctly – asked. She pocketed the holocron carefully and continued, "I understand why me, but why give this to a Jedi at all? The knowledge inside must be valuable to the Sith."

"It is," Dar'vao admitted. "But it's not knowledge I trust the Sith – trust myself – to have. And I needed to show you I'm not like the others, because I need to ask a favour that's going to require a lot of trust."

Ashaara stepped back a pace, eyes narrowed, and Zash knew Dar'vao had overstepped. Pushed too hard at a critical moment, and probably lost the whole endeavour.

Except the Jedi said, "I won't compromise my Jedi teachings."

"I would never ask you to," Dar'vao assured her, seemingly unaware of how close she must have come to being flat-out turned down. "I still want to help. I know about the ghost in the Jedi Enclave, and I know how to purge it. I just need somebody to make sure the Jedi don't attack me on sight when I come to help."

Again, that sincerity, the perfect mix of emotions that had Zash as impressed as she was shocked. Darth Zash hadn't had much time to get to know her apprentice, back before the botched ritual. Zash had heard rumours of the girl's training with lord Althe, seen her skill and beauty, and made the decision that time was limited enough to settle for an alien.

If she'd known how good a liar her apprentice was, Zash would probably have waited for another, and damn the risk.

"A Sith in the Jedi Enclave? The Masters would never allow that."

"I know," Dar'vao said. "They would kill me, even though I mean no harm. That's why I came to you. I hoped you would be more open-minded than your Masters, and I knew you were strong enough that you could afford to trust me. That's… something very important among the Sith."

She said that last part as if she were ashamed of it, but the flattery got to the Padawan nonetheless. "You're right," Ashaara said. "I can go back to the enclave now and contact you when the other Jedi are gone. I'm warning, you, though, if you're planning something, I'll stop you."

"I will purge the ghost and leave," Dar'vao promised. "You have my word."

If the dashade's body could laugh more easily, Zash surely would have. Instead, she bared her fangs in a twisted, horrifying predatory grin. Zash wasn't quite sure how, but Dar'vao had managed to find a perfect, simple way in and out of a Jedi base. All using the one ability Zash had never had to teach the "little Sith".

It galled Zash even as it pleasantly surprised her, how she'd never caught on to this aspect of her apprentice, and how the knowledge crystallized a perfect image of the girl.

Dar'vao was a liar, just like Darth Zash. She was a talented little manipulator, working to find the best solution, the one most likely to lead to success and least likely to get her killed. The two were so alike it was poetic.

Darth Zash, in Khem Val's body, followed her apprentice away from their little rendezvous with the padawan Ashaara Zavros, grinning the whole time. After all, she'd learned something very important today.

Darth Zash had learned that her apprentice was a woman after her own heart, that "Lord Kallig" was a liar and manipulator to match any on the Dark Council. Which meant that nobody knew her better than Zash.

The little Sith was done playing. She'd saved the morsel many times now. Now she faced her rival amidst the flames of the spaceport. It was right. It was what a Sith should do. Now the little Sith would prove herself stronger in the only way that mattered.

The little Sith's lightsaber ignited. She charged. The morsel roared her rage. Khem Val stood back as they engaged. It would not do to interfere. This was a test of the little Sith's strength. It was her chance to prove herself.

Their forms were not impressive. They were novices compared to the great warriors Khem Val had fought with in his lifetime. The morsel's rage was unpolished. The little Sith's was suppressed.

Khem realized something important as the two crossed blades.

They had saved the morsel when she'd fought the soldier. They'd saved her when she was beaten by the Cathar. They'd saved her again in this very spaceport. He'd wondered why the little Sith would do such a thing. The two had nearly come to blows each time. Now Khem realized why they hadn't. It was obvious.

Dar'vao wanted this fight for herself. A weakened enemy was one that wasn't worth defeating. That was something Khem Val could understand. He'd seen evidence of it before. Why had he refused to see it? The little Sith was a warrior.

She fought to destroy her enemies directly. It had been the same every time she'd killed her rivals and enemies alongside him. There would be no offer to let him eat them. She would always kill them herself. It was as was proper.

Khem watched with satisfaction as the little Sith cut down the morsel. Then she turned to him. They walked out of the spaceport without a word.

Yet Khem's understanding of his master had changed with his realization. Khem knew warriors. He could understand them. Khem chuckled darkly.

"Nobody knows you better than I, little Sith," he growled quietly.


	2. Chapter 2

12 ATC

Talos Drellik felt a moment of hesitation over entering Lord Kallig's room. It lasted about 0.7 seconds. Not coincidentally, this was the amount of time it took him to process the room's contents.

Datapads and artifacts everywhere, covering every surface. There was a trail through the datapads where nothing obstructed the path but sheets of flimsiplast. It led to the bed, which was also half-covered in flimsiplast pages. There was also a set of shelves, all filled with artifacts, and a closet. Talos wondered whether it held clothes or particularly delicate artifacts.

It was an utter, cluttered mess, in direct contrast with everything he'd ever seen from Lord Kallig.

Kallig pointed to a corner of the room, whereupon a stack of datapads picked themselves up and floated aside. Stack after stack followed suit, until there was a second path through the room to an unoccupied corner. It didn't take the decades Talos had spent crawling around Sith tombs to guess that meant a secret compartment.

Kallig gestured towards the bed, then closed the door behind them and walked towards the corner. Talos did as told and went to sit down on the bed.

The shudder that ran through Lord Kallig's body, from her lekku down to her her robe, almost caused her to knock over several stacks of pads.

The shaking and twitching had been getting stronger for months. After that fight with Darth Thanaton… almost as long as Talos had known her.

She ignored it, pretended it hadn't happened. She just walked to the wall and placed her hand on it, then swiped her hand in the same way as a Sith dismissing a servant – something Talos realized he'd never seen Lord Kallig do.

A square in the wall depressed and shifted aside.

"Oh, marvelous," Talos blurted, "a Force-activated lat-"

He cut off as Lord Kallig raised a finger to her lips. She turned back towards him languidly, though the effect was spoiled by a momentary grimace of pain.

"I'd prefer you and I be the only ones who know about this, Lieutenant."

Talos shrank back as Kallig returned to the hidden safe. She didn't call him by his rank lightly. Perhaps he ought to be more cautious in the future. Maybe Lord Kallig would accept a few suggested improvements to her safe as an apology?

Before he could say anything, Lord Kallig spoke, still facing the wall. "I have several things I need to show you. I think you're the only one who might appreciate them. You know Naga Sadow was never my… favourite… Sith, but I never told you who was."

She turned around with something unimaginable in her hands.

It was a plain thing. Grey, with a slit visor and red accents tracing a T along the transparisteel and down its center. Still, even if he hadn't recognized it, Talos would have been awed by the power the Mandalorian iron held.

"Darth Revan's mask," he breathed, leaning forward for a better look.

"It also belonged to Revan, and the Revanchist," Lord Kallig added, walking towards him through a new path in the cluttered room.

Talos met her eyes, hoping for clarification, and the tattoos on Lord Kallig's face lost some of their sinister cast as she smiled incrementally. She handed the mask to him carefully, letting him take it fully in practiced and steady hands before she let it slip from her grasp. "Revan's identities were more than pseudonyms, Talos. Let me show you the rest of my meager collection. Then I will explain."

She turned back to her safe.

Talos slowly inspected the mask, picking out the lightsaber scars and blaster burns. He lamented at how poorly preserved it had been. At least Lord Kallig seemed to be keeping it properly.

"I owe its acquisition to subterfuge rather than any skill in archaeology," Lord Kallig admitted quietly to her safe. "Lord Grathan probably never even missed it."

She cut Talos' potential reply off when she turned around with another artifact. Talos looked closely at the round nugget of metal in his Lord's hands, trying to discern what it was. He could feel its power, like a hum beneath his skin, but hadn't any idea what it could be.

"Yes, the mask was stolen." She handed the nugget over to him with only slightly less care than the mask. "Whether the I stole the Infinity Seed is, I suppose, up for debate."

Talos' fingers traced the outside of the seed, and intricate work of etching or circuitry. "I can't even hazard a guess at what this might be."

Lord Kallig reached out her hand and placed one finger on the seed. Then her hand sparked with lightning, and the electricity flowed into the seed.

Then her hand spasmed, and the lightning struck Talos. It lasted for only a second, but the pain was excruciating nonetheless. His hand clenched involuntarily over the seed, and in the same instant the pain disappeared. Half a second later, the lightning stopped.

Talos opened his eyes to Lord Kallig's look of horror, which vanished so quickly he thought he might have imagined it. She reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, looking into his eyes.

"Are you alright?"

When he didn't respond for a second, she prompted him, "Talos."

He managed a nod. "I suspect the Infinity Seed absorbed most of the lightning. But it was… very surprising."

Lord Kallig was stone-faced for a while. Then she closed her eyes and sighed. "I suppose there's no point pretending. It's obvious why I'm showing you this."

She returned again to the safe and, this time, returned with a Sith Holocron. There was no mistaking the red and black pyramid or the power that emanated from it. She placed it down beside him, just out of reach. He made no move to touch it.

"The ghosts are making progress quickly," Kallig whispered, moving to sit beside Talos. "Every day, I feel less like the person I need to be. The decisions I made on Belsavis… There is a chance I will be able to fix them, but..."

She trailed off. Talos waited patiently as she sorted her thoughts. She hadn't planned this, that much was obvious. He'd figured out by now how badly his Lord dealt with surprises. It was best to give her time.

Eventually, after one more violent spasm, she opened her eyes again. Grey-blue eyes sparked within the black tattoos that surrounded them. "These are important to me. I know they're important to you. You're the only person who can understand. The Empire doesn't need these. It would waste or destroy them. I need to know that if..."

"I will keep them safe," Talos promised to the Sith Lord who could not meet his eyes, "if the time comes for me to take charge of them."

"That's not exactly-" Lord Kallig twitched, hard, "-what I want. This holocron, it is far less dangerous than most you have ever come across. If the ghosts win, you must open it. The Sith inside has instructions for you. For everything. There are datapads in this room that will be needed, instructions for the crew, and… things… that have nothing to do with your expertise. Some of the instructions will seem insane. I assure you I made them in sound mind. No matter what, for the sake of yourself, the crew… for the sake of an Empire I willingly die for, I need you to follow them."

Talos thought about it. He wasn't ashamed to admit that. Sith were not famed for making decisions in sound mind. Any instructions that a Sith deemed insane might be beyond Talos' imagination.

Looking into Lord Kallig's eyes, though, he saw the war she fought with every fiber of her being. And he thought about the woman who was asking him to carry on her legacy.

She was an explorer. A scientist and archaeologist, like him. A brilliant woman who he'd seen smile on only a couple of occasions, both while uncovering secrets of ancient peoples. They hadn't been the subdued or secretive smiles she sometimes offered her crew or her peers. Those two times, in the icy tombs of Hoth and the stunningly ancient cells of Belsavis, had been smiles like Talos had felt so often in his life. The smile that came from the uncomplicated joy of saving that which was once thought lost forever.

It was a part of Lord Kallig none of her crew understood. None except Talos. Something pure that had nothing to do with her being a Sith or an alien or an Imperial. And she was asking him to save it, if worse came to worst.

"I will do as you ask, my Lord. I hope you understand that I'd prefer if it weren't necessary, of course."

He gave a smile that she only returned with the barest flicker of her own. Then she moved on.

She picked up Revan's mask again, meeting its empty gaze with a somber one of her own. "Would you like to hear what I've learned about Revan?". There was a hint of hope in her voice.

Talos nodded enthusiastically. How well he knew the rarity of an opportunity to talk about his passions. Most cut him off before he ever got the chance, and so few ever truly understood.

As Lord Kallig started on what promised to be a very long explanation, however, he saw the tension in her shoulders lessen a bit. Even under assault in her own mind, she found comfort in the things she loved.

Watching her, listening to her, it occurred to Talos what sort of people they both traveled with. A pirate, a monster, a Sith, and a Jedi. It was possible, perhaps, that Lord Kallig had another reason to come to him about preserving that which she held dear. On this ship and - if Lord Kallig were as unfortunate as many Sith - perhaps in the whole galaxy, it was possible nobody knew her better than he did.


	3. Chapter 3

12 ASC

Xel'zex's fingers drummed an impatient beat in the cantina's table. He growled audibly as he took a swig from some decadently expensive drink he didn't really taste. Jaesa, sitting beside him, didn't shift from her meditative state.

"You said she'd changed," he snarled at his partner. "Why not just scan her from the ship and be done with it?"

Jaesa cracked an eye open. "You are not angry at me or the mysterious Sith, Lord Wrath, so I would prefer you direct your anger where it _is_ deserved."

She ignored the crunching of Xel'zex's mug and continued, "I've chosen the hands-on approach for the same reason I insisted you be here with me, Lord… no matter how long it took you to consent. This 'Lord Kallig' is an anomaly. Just because I can scan her now doesn't make the last few months any less confusing. People have patterns, Lord, surely you've noticed as well as I. But even after Lord Kallig unraveled from the tangled mess I first sensed, she still didn't fit. I intend to discover why."

Xel'zex glowered towards the cantina entrance, willing the Sith Lord to show. He knew why he was needed. The name of the Emperor's Wrath carried weight, even with the controversy surrounding him right now. It guaranteed Jaesa an audience, and Xel'zex's skills guaranteed her safety. After what had happened last time she hunted down a group of "masked" Sith, the Jedi was taking no chances.

"We will be back with Vette shortly," Jaesa assured him, cutting to the heart of the matter, as always.

Xel'zex grunted. He understood. Lord Kallig was an unknown. There was almost no information about her history, motivation, or methods. Bringing in a non-Force-sensitive to a situation like that was risky, and Xel'zex intended not to risk Vette's safety again if he could help it. Besides, there was that other matter…

None of his thoughts made Xel'zex feel any less bereft with Jaesa at his side rather than Vette.

His reverie was cut off as a woman walked into the cantina. A blue Twi'lek, darker than Vette by a shade, and with longer lekku.

He met Lord Kallig's gaze across the cantina, and she approached. Alone.

Everything about this woman drew Xel'zex's attention. Her face was sharp, angular in a way that was starkly at odds with the one Twi'lek he'd grown so familiar with. Her robes were somewhere between humble, fashionable, and functional, without the laughable shoulder pads that served so many Sith so well on Dromuund Kaas and so poorly on the battlefield. Splashes of blue on her clothing matched her skin and contrasted with the black weave of the rest.

That black weave echoed the black on her face and lekku. Xel'zex made no effort to hide his inspection of the swooping, angular tapestry of tattoos that covered Lord Kallig's countenance. He'd had enough experience with slaves to know what he was looking at. There were signs all over the woman's face of slave tattoos, but many had been covered up or modified, and the tameness of those that were left only seemed to accentuate the presence of their new brethren: the markings of an assassin.

Interesting how a Sith so steeped in mystery wore so much of her history on her body. Though, Xel'zex supposed it would take a certain class of pure-blood Sith to recognize such markings, even without the intriguing combination they made with the older ones.

"Lord Wrath," Lord Kallig said when she reached the table, "it's an honour."

She waited respectfully for him to nod and greet her. "Lord Kallig." He tilted his head towards Jaesa and said, "this is my associate, Jaesa Wilsaam."

He gestured for her to sit, and she did so.

Jaesa wasted no time. She never did. It probably came naturally, when one abhorred secrets as she did. "Before we begin, you should be aware that attacking us would have fatal consequences. Lord Xel'zex was not given the position of Emperor's Wrath lightly. Therefore, you will hear us out and be given a chance to explain yourself. We are not your enemies, only curious. Do you understand?"

Xel'zex rolled his eyes and interrupted a very tense Lord Kallig's reply. "Of course she doesn't. You," he pointed at the Sith, then aimed a thumb at his Jedi friend, "showed up in a scan Jaesa likes to do once in a while. You confused her, and she doesn't like being confused, so she dragged me along to investigate. Got it?"

The tattoo around one of Kallig's eyes distended until it was almost circular. "You are not at all what I expected from the Emperor's Wrath," she admitted, looking from Xel'zex to Jaesa and back, slowly. "I suppose this means I am not here to assist you, nor to be subjected to the Emperor's judgment."

Xel'zex felt a prickling on his scalp completely at odds with how comfortable the cantina was, but he ignored it. He shrugged. "Only judgment I care about right now is Jaesa's. You can assist me by making it quick so I can get home."

"He has a relationship he's trying to sort out," Jaesa supplied candidly.

Xel'zex did his best not to do anything too violent. He did generally enjoy Jaesa's company, after all. He settled for throwing the remains of his mug at a passing waiter and, having successfully gotten the man's attention, gestured for a refil.

Vette had been subtly trying to avoid him ever since he'd killed that traitor, Quinn.

Kallig watched the proceedings with a bemused expression. "I see," she drawled. "Then shall we begin with the questions and waste no more of the Wrath's time?"

Jaesa nodded and Xel'zex gave a glower any slave of his would know as impatient, but approving. He did leave out his usual grunt, though. "Never in front of guests," his mother always said, and Kallig was, in a way, just that.

"Your Force Aura was uniquely obscured until fairly recently," Jaesa said. "Why?"

Kallig stared at Jaesa. "What kind of scan did you say this was?"

"I'll be happy to elaborate after you've answered my question, if you don't mind."

Xel'zex raised an eyebrow incrementally. The only other person Jaesa was that formal with was Vette. He supposed she must dislike how unreadable Lord Kallig was.

Unreadable by Jaesa's ability but, paradoxically, not in person. There was a guarded worry in the Sith's eyes that said everything Xel'zex needed to know. She was wary, but didn't have anything to hide she felt the Emperoro's Wrath would be concerned with. This would be over with quickly enough.

Kallig took a moment to respond, probably to phrase her reply in a way she liked. Eventually, she said, I'd guess the problem was caused by a group of Sith ghosts who were trying to drive me mad at the time… from inside my own head."

"Really?" Xel'zex had never heard of anything like that. "How did they get there?"

"Ah, Lord Wrath," Kallig drawled, "that's a second question, I believe." She flashed him a small, conspiratorial smile as she turned to look pointedly at Jaesa.

This woman had grown up a slave? Those tattoos must be from very early in her life, indeed.

Jaesa looked just as unhappy as Kallig did subtly smug. "I have the ability to sense the motivations of a person, to look into the deepest parts of their being and see who they really are."

Kallig's face took on an expression of unabashed fascination. "That is truly incredible," she breathed, "and you just happened to peer into my soul a few months ago?"

Jaesa shook her head. "No, I can use the ability in a wide area and-"

She cut herself off and looked ready to curse. Her jaw clenched spasmodically as she ground her teeth together.

Sharing a glance with a chuckling Xel'zex, Kallig finished, "and you run these scans periodically on towns."

Watching Jaesa's face closely, the clever Sith corrected herself. "Planets."

Then her eyes widened in the first genuinely shocked expression she'd shown yet. "Sectors!"

Xel'zex reached up to run a hand through his hair. He was starting to find Lord Kallig very amusing. It was rare to see Jaesa on the back foot, but Kallig seemed to have a knack for reading her, and reveled in it. It was all a game of masks, but Xel didn't mind. Watching how Kallig enjoyed it was reward enough for any deception.

"I believe it is my turn for a question," Jaesa snapped.

"By all means," Kallig demurred, for all the world as if she didn't notice Jaesa's mood.

Jaesa paused for a moment, glaring at her opponent and trying to collect her thoughts. Grinding her teeth. When she came to a decision, she asked, "what happened to the ghosts?"

Kallig's brow furrowed in confusion. "Happened to them? What makes you think something happened to them?"

It was like watching his mother in politics. Exactly so.

Jaesa burst out yelling. "Because, besides the fact that you're not raving mad, you don't feel so clouded anymore!"

Then again, she might be pushing too hard. Even Vette had never gotten Jaesa this riled up this quickly. The padawan might be tempted to do her little ritual just to end the frustration.

At least, that's what Xel'zex thought before Kallig threw Jaesa a bone. Like leading a child into darkened forests by ghostlight.

"Well, it's not technically what you asked about but, I suppose, for an associate of the Emperor's Wrath..." Kallig gave Xel'zex a look that would have interested him, had he been a lifetime less experienced and never met Vette. And just as quickly, her gaze slid away. "I have protected my mind from the ghosts. They are with me just as they have always been."

Always?

"What sort of ritual allows you to peer into another's heart? It must be unique, if the Wrath hasn't taken it for his own."

Kallig trailed off, visibly thinking for several seconds. Just before it looked like Jaesa would lose her patience and ask her own question, Kallig's lekku twitched in a way Xel'zex was sure he'd seen before, and she spoke. "How, exactly, do you go about scanning someone?"

Xel'zex ran his hand through his hair again and answered for Jaesa. "She just stands and meditates for a minute. Less if she doesn't want much detail, more if she wants to scan more people."

The look Jaesa gave him was a such a level of exasperated that he almost felt guilty. Actually, he wasn't sure why he-

"Now that I know what makes you so unique, Lord Kallig," Jaesa said, to a raised eyebrow from the Sith, "I am going to learn everything about who you are."

She said it like a threat, because it was. Jaesa knew Kallig would do nothing with the Emperor's Wrath sitting across from her.

"That sounds time-consuming and unnecessary," Kallig said, bored. "The Emperor's Wrath must have better things to do than pry apart an alien Sith's life."

That was true. He did. He could get back to Vette instead of making life harder for one of her fellow aliens.

He swept his hand through his hair again. He'd better not have some sort of parasite.

"She's right, Jaesa," he started, but the glare he received in return shut him up.

On second thought, he had better things to do than make an enemy of one of his crew. It was Kallig's own fault for getting on the Jedi's nerves, no matter how much fun it had obviously been.

He sat back in his chair and took a proffered drink from a waiter - not the one he'd hit earlier. Kallig shot him a betrayed look, but he just shrugged. It was her problem. He'd stepped in enough. If she still wanted out, she could fight Jaesa… and maybe him, if Jaesa convinced him.

Kallig sighed as Jaesa settled into her meditation. Neither said anything as the Jedi began to glow a faint white.

Still, she was grinding her teeth.

After a few seconds, Xel'zex could see the faintest of matching outlines around Kallig.

That prickling sensation was starting to get unbearable.

"Humility and pride. Masks. Fear. A mask. Curiosity, superiority, amusement. Masks. Darkness. A mask." Jaesa grew angrier with every declaration but, again, Xel'zex couldn't help but be impressed. Most people had one mask, maybe two. The list Jaesa was reciting was becoming almost insulting.

"At least two full personalities," Jaesa concluded in disgust, "completely fabricated."

Kallig only shrugged, which caused Jaesa to bare her teeth in frustration. Xel'zex was starting to get concerned. Jaesa was usually pretty laid-back. Not subdued, of course, but genuinely easy-going. Kallig was getting to her more than he'd have thought possible. She'd wear her teeth down to the gums at this rate.

"She is a traitor to the Empire," Jaesa spat.

Again, not something Jaesa usually cared about.

It was a shame. Kallig seemed an amusing sort.

Xel'zex unclipped his lightsaber from his belt.

Kallig raised a languidly objective hand. "Jaesa, was it? That is a very artfully interpreted statement… one might go so far as to call it a lie."

Xel'zex almost laughed at that thought.

"There is quite a story you're failing to explain, isn't that right, Jaesa?"

"I'd like to hear a story," Xel'zex offered. He did not take his hand off his lightsaber.

Jaesa had her own lightsaber in hand and was all but brandishing it at Kallig. Still, she acquiesced.

"Lord Kallig plans to join the Dark Council and change the Empire drastically."

"Join the Dark Council?" Xel'zex smirked. "That's quite a tall order to accomplish before betraying the Empire. How well were you hoping this meeting would go?"

"I'm currently in a Kaggath with Darth Thanaton," Kallig offered.

Xel'zex looked at Jaesa, who nodded and said, "true."

"And who's Darth Thanaton?"

Kallig and Jaesa both stared at Xel'zex. He shrugged and rolled his eyes at his traveling companion. "As if you would know if you didn't go peering into people's heads all the time."

"Darth Thanaton holds the Dark Council's sphere of Ancient Knowledge," Kallig said, aghast.

"Sounds dusty," Xel'zex decided. "And these changes you mentioned? The ones that are so drastic they betray the Empire? It takes more than a single seat to accomplish anything like that. Do they teach slaves that sort of thing?"

He hadn't meant it as an insult. He didn't look down on slaves any more than he did anybody else… which wasn't saying anything nice, actually. Still, he didn't expect the reaction he got.

Kallig leapt to her feet, staring down Xel'zex's newly lit lightsaber without flinching. The red reflected off cold grey-blue eyes.

"As a matter of fact, they do not," Kallig snapped. "I learned Sith politics the hard way, not at my mother's knee. Maybe if the Empire hadn't killed her, I'd know as much as you do about the Imperial government."

There were volumes spoken in those eyes Xel'zex hadn't realised he'd learned how to read. But he decided he didn't care. Without a glance away from the angry Sith, he asked Jaesa, "those reforms, then?"

"She's lying," Jaesa said, ignoring him. "She never met her mother. And her anger over being referred to as a slave… no, wait, that's real. Just buried under a few layers."

Xel'zex cleared his throat. He was starting to feel impatient. If this took much longer, he might just kill Kallig to keep things simple. Or Jaesa. As much as he liked her, she really was the one wasting his time.

"She wants to abolish slavery, for one thing," Jaesa started, earning an impressed whistle from Xel. "And enforce better treatment of aliens. I mean enforce it. Strongly. She also wants to limit the power of the Sith."

"Generally, or the Dark Council? Because that seems counterproductive."

"She plans to limit the power of the Emperor himself."

Xel'zex shrugged. "It's not like he does much. Eradication Day was the work of a member of the Dark Council member and, from what I hear, he didn't even notice."

Kallig shot him a look as if to ask how he could possibly know this.

Xel'zex shrugged. He did listen to his mother's stories sometimes.

"Anything else?"

"She is, at her core, a liar and schemer," Jaesa said, delivering the worst insults she had to hand. No reconciling these two, then. "Not as ruthless or dark as many Sith, but willing to betray almost anyone for power."

Xel'zex looked into those cold eyes and thought he saw the rage hiding in them. An idea occurred to him. Something he could do that might change Vette's life forever. "Would she dare betray me?"

This time, it was Jaesa who shot him an incredulous look. He gestured for her to get on with it.

Jaesa focused on her meditation again, peering deep into Kallig's mind.

"No," Jaesa finished with a sigh. She had an idea what Xel'zex was thinking. "She wouldn't dare move against someone so powerful."

"Nor," Kallig added, guessing Xel'zex's intentions, "somebody whose goals align with mine."

Jaesa nodded begrudgingly when Xel glanced her way.

Xel'zex smiled and withdrew his lightsaber. He clipped it and sat down, beckoning for Kallig to join him again.

"I'm fond of the power I have, and I've enjoyed the slaves I've owned over the years," he said as Kallig sat back down. She bristled at his words, and he raised a hand to forestall her. "However, I am willing to entertain certain changes, even support an up-and-coming Sith in a bid for a Council seat, if it leads to better treatment aliens in the Empire."

Kallig's expression didn't change much, but Jaesa's did. She stared at Xel, horrified.

"Why?"Kallig asked, voice betraying the suspicion her face hid.

"There is a certain alien I've grown rather fond of." That was all the explanation he felt was needed.

"And you," Kallig asked, looking at Jaesa, "what do you say of his intentions?"

"I'd prefer not to be addressed by one such as you," growled the Jedi.

"Jaesa," Xel'zex commanded, "will an alliance between the two of us be honoured on both sides?"

Jaesa didn't bother stifling her glare, but she did enter her meditation one more time.

After a few seconds, she said, "Lord Kallig will work towards the Dark Council with the Lord Wrath's help. Once there, they will work together to increase the standing and fair treatment of aliens in the Empire. Any other goals of Lord Kallig's will not interfere with the Lord Wrath's, but will receive no assistance from him. The Lord Wrath's goals are of no business or concern to Lord Kallig. These terms are agreed to and understood, and either Lord breaking them will face my punishment."

No part of this was a question. Xel'zex didn't even bother nodding. Jaesa knew he understood.

He dismissed Kallig, satisfied. He'd gained an ally he could trust today. After all, Jaesa had looked into the darkest recesses of the other Sith's mind. No matter how special Kallig might think herself, after today, nobody in the galaxy knew her better than Jaesa Wilsaam.


	4. Chapter 4

13 ASC

Ashaara Zavros, former padawan of the Jedi Order, crept silently through the corridors of her master's ship.

 _Feel your fear. Let it encompass your thoughts, and focus on what it is you fear. Fear is your ally; it keeps you from making mistakes. Use it to guide your actions, and then discard it, like a spent fuel cell._

Lord Kallig's words echoed in the young togruta's mind, as they always did, ever since the day her life had changed forever. The day when she had betrayed the Jedi Order.

 _I am afraid of being seen or heard,_ she thought, wondering how that fear could possibly help her, wishing she could just chant the Jedi Code to herself and ward off her emotions.

She focused on her fears.

Xalek, Lord Kallig's other apprentice, the taciturn bone-faced Kaleesh who could sneak up on Ashaara and kill her without warning or remorse. He was a skilled fighter, but it was his silence, his air of mystery, that truly terrified his jedi counterpart.

Khem Val… or Darth Zash, depending on the turn of the wind. A Dashade assassin capable of killing most force-users through sheer strength, with a shocking resistance to the Force and the unerring skill of a thousand battles to back it up. When Khem Val was in control, he was bloodthirsty and prone to eating little Jedi like Ashaara. On the other hand, when Darth Zash was in control, she was kind and instructive… until, Lord Kallig warned, one impeded her in any way. Then the body-displaced Sith Lord would find unnatural, cunning ways to dispose of her enemies.

Andronikos Revel, the pirate. Maybe Ashaara wasn't afraid of him. Still, she would never say they were friends. There was something dangerous about being close to that man, the feeling that an insult would create an unstoppable grudge.

But Ashaara was not afraid of being seen or heard by Andronikos, just as she was unafraid of Talos Drellik, the archaeologist. She'd never expect either to attack her, she just never spoke to them. All they did by being on the ship with her was make her loneliness that much sharper.

 _Khem, Zash, and Xalek,_ Ashaara listed to herself, just as her Master had taught her. _I am afraid they might kill me._

 _What are your tools? How do you use them? Your plans can only include the tools you have, so be prepared. Win the battle before it begins, or avoid it. Anything else only invites failure and death._

Ashaara started her list with the most obvious tool: her lightsaber. She was good at fighting. Maybe better than a proper jedi should be. That didn't mean she could do anything to stop a monster like Khem or keep Xalek from sneaking up on her and…

She shook her head. Best just not to think about it.

Her Force powers were useless, too. Khem was pretty much immune to them, and Xalek was just as powerful as she was. She couldn't think of a single power she had that would impress him. Still, she sorted out the few that might slow him down. If she saw him coming.

Her Jedi education in diplomacy and Republic history, she listed because Lord Kallig would punish her for leaving out any tool, no matter how useless at first glance. There were also her hand-to-hand skills, the mental defenses Lord Kallig had taught her, and her armour. All tools of limited use, but important to remember.

Racking her brains, Ashaara realized she was forgetting something she took for granted. Again, something Lord Kallig would punish her for.

Ashaara Zavros was a togruta, a very rare species in Imperial space. She had her own special abilities Xalek and Khem would have never heard of, the most obvious of which lay in her horns. They weren't just pretty, even if they weren't weapons. She could feel vibrations with them. The hollow chambers were meant to help togruta judge their surroundings and sense incoming attacks. Years of Jedi training had made her reliant on the Force for her every action, had separated her from her own natural heritage.

It almost brought a smile to the padawan's lips, thinking of how satisfied Lord Kallig would be when Ashaara told her.

So Ashaara set out with eyes closed, letting the Force guide her silent footsteps and judging her progress by the senses of her horns. She could feel as she approached an obstacle or brushed against something that might cause noise. She listened through her horns for Xalek's approach or Khem's footsteps, and moved with greater confidence knowing they couldn't hear her and she'd know if they were close. She made it all the way to Lord Kallig's chambers, and Xalek and Khem never stirred from their rooms.

Ashaara did not knock, in part out of fear of discovery, in part for fear of disturbing her master. Instead, she focused her mind on calling out to Lord Kallig, knowing if the sorceress had attention to spare, Ashaara would be let in.

The door opened, and Lord Kallig's face peered out dispassionately. When she saw Ashaara, a glimmer of a smile appeared on the Sith Lord's face, one that said, "not much makes me happy, but this is alright." Then the door slid open fully, and Ashaara was allowed to enter.

The room was a mess, nothing like Ashaara'd expected when she first got on the ship. Kallig had told her that she liked the room that way, because it made it feel more personal.

Ashaara picked her way to a chair beside the bed, and Lord Kallig closed the door and sat down on another chair by her desk. With a flick of her hand, piles of datapads and boxes and things shifted out of the way, and the Sith woman turned her chair away from the room's desk to face her "apprentice".

Lord Kallig was a Twi'lek, a blue one, who had once been a slave, and she bore the tattoos that marked that heritage. Once, while explaining her reasons and plans for changing the Empire, Kallig had traced a few of the spiraling, spiking lines down her lekku and across her face and told Ashaara what they meant, how they indicated her role in the household of a particularly possessive owner. Ashaara had always wondered about the ones around her eyes, dark black ovals with small spikes tracing the sides of her nose and into the sides of where her eyebrows might be. A final spike shot down from beside each eye, tracing Kallig's cheekbones. Of all the intimidating and foreboding tattoos the twi'lek had, Ashaara had always thought those seemed the darkest.

Ashaara waited, as she always did, while Lord Kallig closed her eyes and focused. A ripple moved through the Force as the Lord sent out an aura that would distract people thinking of interrupting their conversation. Kallig said it played idle havoc with doubts and distractions, but Ashaara didn't have the knack for mental manipulation her master did, and had never attempted the technique.

Then Kallig opened grey-green eyes and asked, "what do you want, Ashaara?"

Always, "what do you want?" Not in the sense that Lord Kallig was being inconvenienced, but in the sense that she didn't so much care what Ashaara needed, but what the padawan hoped for. The way she asked the question always made Ashaara think twice. Among the Jedi, they'd never asked her what she wanted. It was always about the Force or the Jedi or the Republic.

"I wanted your opinion, master," Ashaara said with trepidation, before rushing out the words, "on me."

One of Kallig's oval tattoos grew more circular in her equivalent of raising an eyebrow.

"You fear this life is changing you, then," said Kallig in that caring tone she reserved only for their moments alone.

Ashaara nodded in relief. Her master always seemed to understand, to sympathize. It made her so easy to confide in. In spite of that, Ashaara had been worried about coming to Kallig with her concerns.

Why did she ever worry about talking to her master?

Then Ashaara realized she'd missed the last thing Kallig had said, distracted by an odd buzzing in her horns.

"I'm sorry, master," she said, embarrassed. She spoke more to her feet than her fellow force-user when she confessed, "I didn't hear that last part."

Lord Kallig gave Ashaara a reproachful look, still a zero on the one-to-ten scale of Kallig glares, which could include glowing purple eyes and floating lekku.

"I asked," Kallig repeated impatiently, "if you came tell me exactly what you think has changed? And, please, relax. It's not exactly dangerous to look me in the eyes, and fear does you no service here."

Ashaara closed her eyes and, breathing out slowly, thought, _there is no emotion. There is peace._ She had come here to talk with her master. She opened her eyes and met her master's gaze.

"I'm afraid," she confessed. "I feel hunted and alone, master. I try to use it or push it aside, like you've taught me, but it always comes back, as strong as ever. I'm afraid it's changing me, master. I don't think I can ever be the same person I was before I left the Jedi, but –"

Ashaara's voice cracked, and she bit back a sob, but Lord Kallig watched without comment, face betraying only a hint of concern, and none of the pity Ashaara half-hoped for.

"…but I want to be someone who could go back to them," Ashaara finished.

Lord Kallig waited, scanning Ashaara's face, before speaking. Then she said, "my crew poses no threat to you while I live, Ashaara. You have nothing to fear so long as you can call me friend."

Though Kallig's face betrayed little emotion, her words filled Ashaara with a warmth and confidence the padawan hadn't felt in months.

Shaking her head at the increasingly insistent buzzing, Ashaara smiled at her master gratefully.

Nodding incrementally, Kallig continued, "as for your mindset, padawan: do you remember the details of the mission you are helping me achieve?"

"You mean changing the Empire," Ashaara blurted out.

"The details," the twi'lek corrected her mildly. "As I've explained them to you, repeat them. This serves a purpose, I assure you."

Ashaara nodded, trusting her master, and the details of the plan seemed to spring to the front of her mind eagerly.

"Once you've completely stabilized your powers," she recited, "you plan to track down Darth Thanaton and trap him into personal combat, killing him and claiming his Sphere as part of the Kaggath. This will guarantee you a seat on the Dark Council, in spite of your species. From there, you intend to leverage your knowledge and acceptance of alien species into a superior power base. This, alongside garnering the attention of potentially sympathetic Sith Lords like Darth Malgus, Darth Marr, and Darth Vowrawn, including other candidates, should create a large enough movement amongst the Dark Council to begin a shift towards a more accepting Empire. At the same time, your resources and partnership with Lord Xel'zex, the Emperor's Wrath, should allow you to make headway against the practice of slavery in the Empire. Details for the abolition of slavery are yet to be determined, since it is such a long-term goal."

Ashaara blinked, a little stunned at the words that had poured from her mouth. Lord Kallig nodded languidly.

"What do you think about that?" Kallig asked. "Do you approve? Do you think it is feasible? What are your concerns about it?"

Lord Kallig sat back in her chair, watching her padawan with a hint of interest. Which, for her, was kind of like fascination.

Ashaara paused, stunned. She'd never been put on the spot like this before. She took a breath and went over the entire plan in her mind, grateful that the buzzing in her horns seemed to have subsided. She thought about the violence her master intended to use to gain power, and how the Empire made such methods unavoidable. She wished that weren't the case. Not that she was afraid of fighting, but if power weren't so commonly gained by killing rivals, she would probably be much less afraid of Xalek.

Then she thought about her master on the Dark Council, negotiating with the most powerful Sith in the galaxy. To be perfectly, terribly honest, she didn't think it would work. The Dark Council members were infamous for their cruelty and ruthlessness. Lord Kallig was a brilliant woman, more cunning than anything Ashaara could imagine, but what could she offer members of the Dark Council that wouldn't corrupt her into a person she never wanted to be? Kallig was not a kind woman, but her morals were ironclad, and Ashaara doubted any of the Dark Council could say the same.

Then there was Lord Xel'zex. Ashaara shuddered slightly at the thought of that man. He was a massive, powerful, unstoppable pure-blood Sith, and every bit the monster his background implied. The fact that he was allied with Lord Kallig… it unsettled Ashaara, made her wonder who else her master might accept as an ally if necessary. At what point did the end no longer justify the means?

For Ashaara, maybe it was already past that point, and she'd been too scared to say so.

Ashaara started to explain these thoughts to her master, but grew nervous. She trailed off twice, each time only continuing to explain at prompting from Lord Kallig. In the end, though, she told Lord Kallig everything.

The twi'lek woman's expression didn't change the entire time, not a bit. Except to prompt Ashaara to continue, she acted like she wasn't even there. Then, at the end, rather than respond to Ashaara's critique, Kallig asked, "are you alright?"

Tilting her head distractedly, Ashaara asked, "what?" It was barely more than a grunt.

"You seem to be twitching," Kallig noted, hiding a trace of concern. "Is there something wrong? Should we get you to the med bay?"

She was worrying about Ashaara? It wasn't even a week ago that Kallig had finally silenced the ghosts trapped in her mind, and she was worrying about Ashaara's health?

It was sweet, actually. In spite of her nerves, Ashaara almost smiled. She shook her head. "No," she said, "it's just a buzzing of some kind. It keeps coming and going. It's just very distracting."

Kallig nodded and visibly hesitated before saying anything, watching Ashaara as if she might fall over at any moment.

"If you're sure," the Sith said slowly. Then, when Ashaara only nodded, Kallig came to a decision. She nodded, swiped a new path through all her notes and treasures, and climbed onto her bed. The tension in the room increased, and Ashaara trembled, but Kallig just leaned forward, elbows on her knees and chin resting on the backs of her hands. She seemed as if she'd finally relaxed, if anything.

"I have a story to tell you," the twi'lek said in a tone that promised secrets. "I think it will make a big difference to how you think of my plans.

"My name is Dar'vao," she began, ignoring Ashaara's gasp of surprise. Nobody on the crew was allowed to speak their lord's real name, and Ashaara had never known it. "I was born a slave on Dromund Kaas, and never met my family…"

* * *

Ashaara awoke to a new day on the Siren Anathema and stretched happily. Today was going to be a good day, she could feel it. It must be that talk she'd had with D-

The young Jedi paused, trying to recall a half-remembered dream. Talking with Lord Kallig, maybe?

Then her uncertainty disappeared with the fleeting memories, and she was back to smiling.

She sat up and kicked out of bed, intent on challenging Xalek to a spar.

* * *

Lord Kallig sat on her bed. She'd been unable to sleep, but that wasn't unusual after one of her sessions with Ashaara.

The girl was getting stronger. She'd taken to Kallig's training well, better than the Jedi herself suspected. She'd remembered aspects of the story, felt the buzzing more intensely, and been harder to infiltrate. It had taken almost the entire story before she'd cut Ashaara off from her body, let alone her will. Too long.

This had gone too far. Every time, Kallig wondered if this would be the time Ashaara broke through the careful cloaking on her memories and, herself, broke. And yet, the Sith Lord couldn't think of any other way to protect the girl.

There was one way. One decision the Sith hadn't made out of sheer selfishness.

Was it so wrong to want somebody who… well, she couldn't trust Ashaara, but somebody who wouldn't stab Kallig in the back at the first opportunity? Kallig barely had a leash on Andronikos, the lech, and then there was Khem.

There wasn't anything else for it. Ashaara had to go. Somewhere, anywhere but the Siren Anathema.

Lord Kallig, Dar'vao, allowed a fleeting sadness to cross her face. She could be a little honest, in the privacy of her own room, and admit she would miss the naive young woman.

After all, on those nights when Ashaara Zavros' confidence fell and she came to Dar'vao for guidance, those nights when Dar'vao took over the girl's mind under the guise of telling a story… Well, on those nights, just for a few minutes, didn't Ashaara know Dar'vao better than anyone else in the galaxy?


	5. Chapter 5

"Begin profile one hundred-thirteen point eight. Set vocal recognition code, Cipher Nine."

Telkwa Thema – once Cipher Nine, once Legate – gave a series of dissonant hums to the recording device in his hand. There was a soft, breathy sound in response.

"Overwrite profile one hundred-thirteen point seven. Begin recording."

The device chimed softly, and Telkwa made mental note of where each of his traveling companions were. Kaliyo, he could trust. Vector, too. It was Temple and Lokin who were the concerns, and they were both busying themselves with personal work.

"This should be the final profile for subject: Lord Kallig. To think she came to my attention by mere coincidence is frustrating now. It makes me worry who else I may have missed amidst all the numbers and statistics. Surely nobody else who would require a full eight revisions of her profile.

"Luckily, Kaliyo offered her help with the final analysis. As I suspected, it takes a compulsive liar to understand one. The previous versions of this profile all suffered from the same failing on my part: that my job requires me to lie in a completely different way than Kallig and Kaliyo."

Telkwa berated himself silently, urging himself to stay on topic. He didn't want to have to revise the entire profile, again, just to keep everything to sensible time stamps.

"Lord Kallig first came to my attention as a footnote in my studies on Darth Thanaton, profile twelve. Nothing more than a name and a minor detail about a grudge and ongoing minor conflict between the two.

"Then came the first real red flag." Telkwa chuckled at his own joke. As if he had any idea what red was. "A bit of digging on Master Azeel, the Barsen'thor, profile fifty-seven point three, revealed a connection with Lord Kallig, as well. Another ongoing minor conflict.

"Further research revealed a meteoric rise to power that should have garnered the attention of not only myself, but Imperial Intelligence, the SIS, and the Dark Council, if any of them had any sense. As is, it seems Thanaton has singled her out as the apprentice of a deceased rival, Darth Zash. His concerns are entirely personal. As for the Barsen'thor, details to follow."

Telkwa took a moment to gather his thoughts – and make sure Kaliyo wasn't sitting outside his door, eavesdropping. She knew he could see her through the wall, but it didn't seem to deter her. Maybe she liked annoying him.

She definitely liked annoying him.

He raised the recording device to his mouth again. "Kallig's history and real name were a mystery for the first four profiles. Apparently, Darth Zash didn't care where her apprentice came from, and Darth Thanaton didn't consider it worth his spies' time. I was forced to backtrack through Kallig's Korriban trainer, Harken, to his supplier. A little leg work provided the details I needed."

Well, a little legwork and one of the earliest uses of the brainwashing formula that had caused him so much trouble as the double-agent, Legate.

"Lord Kallig was born Dar'vao, a twi'lek slave to Lord Althe of Ziost. Some research into Lord Althe's records revealed she'd been trained as an assassin long before she joined the academy. At first, I thought that was the complete explanation for her surprising skill. Then I discovered she'd outperformed Lord Althe's own son in the initiation. It seemed unlikely that Lord Althe taught her better than his own son.

"I admit I ran through a few theories before realizing the most obvious explanation for Lord Kallig's mysterious past. The clues were all there, it just didn't occur to me that a Sith might act in such a way.

"The first clue was her assassin's upbringing. Any assassin has to have some way in and out of a job. Most, I understand, using a Force technique or stealth field generator, hiding from sight the same way I do. This is not the case with Lord Kallig. She's been caught on far too many cameras moving in and out of enemy installations for that to be the case. While she appears to have some skill at basic subterfuge, something felt off about the whole thing, as noted in profiles point two to point six.

"The second clue was hard to spot, and it filled me in on how she accomplished her assassin's duties.

"Lord Kallig is adept at mental manipulation." Telkwa shuddered slightly. The idea was intriguing, but terrifying. "This is how she accomplishes most of her tasks: subtle use of mental adjustment. Special note: the easiest way to kill Lord Kallig will be to use battle droids. She's clearly spent a significant amount of time honing her techniques against organics, and it's unlikely she is as effective against synthetics. End special note. Kallig uses a variation of the well-known Mind Trick for most of her infiltration jobs.

"Third, records of Kallig's diplomatic exploits – if you can call Sith negotiations by any such word – are filled with inconsistencies and impossible resolutions. I can't bring myself to believe she's that skilled with her powers. Sith are paranoid and prone to reacting violently to anything like a Force technique being used on them. She'd have been dead long ago.

"As I said, Kaliyo helped with the final conclusion. I can't believe I didn't think of it myself but, I admit, I have a certain blind spot in regards to Sith. Perhaps when I finally have Vector completely on-side, or somehow convince Lokin, they can shore up my weakness in this area.

"Lord Kallig is a liar. It's that simple. In the same way that a Cipher Agent is, but on the same scale as Kaliyo. It suffuses Kallig's life and guides her every interaction."

Telkwa pulled the recording device away from his mouth with a sigh. The very idea astounded him. The last couple of months, he'd been hiding his own intentions from his closest companions, and it was tearing him up inside. A sentient needed his rest from paranoia and the drowning depths of another identity. Kaliyo lied because it was fun, interesting to keep up a story as long as possible, and a good way to keep people from getting too close. Telkwa lied because he was excellent at it and it was his job. To lie on the level that Telkwa had to, as perpetually as Kaliyo did… it sounded like a nightmare.

More than that, it sounded unbelievable.

The spy stood up, pocketing the device in the chest pocket of his coat. He didn't turn it off. It was better, in his opinion, to keep the irregularities in the document. It made everything easier to remember.

Besides, he had somebody to consult.

It was barely a few steps from Telkwa's room to the med bay. Such was life on board a ship.

"Lokin," he said, "I'd like to speak with you."

Lokin turned to face the doorway as Telkwa turned the corner and entered the room.

"Yes, agent?" Lokin gave that same enigmatic smile he always did, with that same unshifting, calm-lake facade he kept at all times. "What is it you'd like to talk about?"

"Cipher Twelve."

Lokin's facade wavered, just a little. Even so, it wasn't anything near the reaction Telkwa would expect from somebody talking about a lifelong friend who'd died on the job.

Yes, Lokin was the perfect person to ask.

"How often did Cipher Twelve get away from his undercover job?" No point in hedging his questions.

For all appearances, Lokin took the question in stride. "He would go for anywhere from a couple of weeks to three months without physically reporting in or taking R&R… though his leave could last a single day or weeks, depending on circumstances."

He gave Telkwa a curious look. "This is an unusual question, agent," he pointed out. "What's sparked your curiosity?"

What to tell him? Lokin wasn't to be trusted. Not yet. The man wasn't exactly loyal to the Empire, but old men tended to be set in their ways. It would take more than Eradication Day or the Shadow Arsenal incident to bring him around. Then again, could Telkwa lie well enough to trick a spy with an order of magnitude more experience than himself?

"I spent months working as a double agent for the Republic," Telkwa said, hoping he hadn't hesitated noticeably. Not that Lokin's reaction would ever tell him so. "In that time, at most half of what I said was a lie. I was able to keep my identity intact, and I was free to be myself when I returned to the ship."

That wasn't exactly true, not with the IX serum, but he still hadn't worked up the nerve to tell anyone but Vector about that. For now, Lokin could live with the knowledge that he wasn't being told something.

"It was different before, as a Cipher agent," Telkwa continued, sinking into memories of days without a single true word passing his lips. "It was necessary to sink into my identities, become someone entirely different. The idea has been haunting me: what happens when an agent has to lie that thoroughly, for months?"

Lokin gave Telkwa a long look. His aura reached out, flowing towards Telkwa, then ebbed once more. Finally, the old spy asked, "are you planning something, agent?"

The young man shook his head. "No," he answered, honest in context. "I wouldn't subject myself to that-"

"Is this about your dossiers?"

Telkwa frowned. He shouldn't have, but he couldn't help it. It was so unlike Lokin to interrupt anyone, even Kaliyo. Worse, the only reason he ever showed his hand was when it was finally time to play it.

"What is it you want to know?" Telkwa asked.

"You've dictated dozens, perhaps hundreds of these dossiers to yourself," Lokin said, a tone of worry creeping into his voice. "As best I can tell, every one is a full account of an influential person within the Republic or Empire. Experience tells me any questions you're going to ask me are related to the dossiers and what you're planning with them. So, tell me: what are you planning?"

As always, Lokin knew far more than Telkwa had dared give him credit for. Even knowing about the dossiers wasn't supposed to have happened, but Lokin even knew their contents.

Lesson learned. Build better soundproofed walls.

Now what to do? Telkwa wasn't stupid, even if he'd been foolish enough to give the good doctor clues to his intentions. He knew Lokin could kill him in his sleep, on the medical table, through bad intel, or even face-to-face as that monster he could change into.

"It's a kill list," Telkwa admitted, and, continuing before Lokin could react, "or a potential one. It's a list of every person who would have to die to end this war, without any chance of it continuing."

Lokin's expression didn't change, and he sounded nonchalant when he commented, "that is going to be a very long list."

Well. That was a gamble paid off far better than the miralukan had expected. Unless, of course, Lokin was playing it cool and waiting. Best to assume that wasn't the case. It wasn't as if Telkwa could do anything if it were, anyway.

"It's not one I expect to use," Telkwa lied, and added the reasonable, but false, "alone against the Empire and Republic doesn't sound like a winner's bet, anyway. Think of it as a mental exercise for a jaded agent."

"Plotting the deaths of every leader and potential leader in the galaxy for fun," Lokin mused with an indulgent smile. "I've heard of worse coping mechanisms, I suppose. And your questions about Cypher Twelve are related?"

Telkwa nodded. "Yes, I- well, listen." He set the recording device to play back from the beginning of the profile and played the entirety of Lord Kallig's data – at least, for this iteration. When he reached the end and skipped over his conversation with Lokin, he set the device back to recording and looked at the elder spy. "Well," he asked, "what do you think?"

The old man put a hand to his chin and hummed. Then he took a step away and sat down on the only chair in the room, beside his desk, and started typing into a datapad. Potentially a way for him to hide information from Telkwa, but more likely just a way to organize the information in a way he was better suited to.

Sighted species. All the same.

"This is an ambitious theory," Lokin said, perusing the text after a minute of typing. "It takes a unique sort of person to become a Cypher agent, and it's rare for one to be selected for a mission like Cypher Twelve was on, let alone what you describe for Lord Kallig. Most of those either die on the job or are never suitable for another mission."

Telkwa nodded. "That's about what I expected," he agreed. "But Kaliyo is certain."

The doctor looked up and raised an eyebrow. "Well, far be it for me to contradict Miss Kaliyo in matters of dishonesty," he said, turning back to his datapad. "Based on this premise, I can only-"

He cut off, tapped a few more keys, then turned to look at Telkwa. "You're aware that Lord Kallig was rumoured to be involved in the death of Darth Skotia within weeks of becoming then-Lord Zash's apprentice?"

"Ah." Telkwa pressed a button on his recording device, hummed a few tones, and said, "upload profile one hundred thirteen, appendix C to Sanguine End, terminal three. Text format."

The computer on Lokin's desk chimed. Before he could read the file, however, Telkwa summarized. "Upwards of three dozen Sith deaths, all painstakingly traced back to Lord Kallig."

Lokin scanned the document. "Apprentice Thana Vesh, MIA during an attack on a Republic spaceport on Taris… Lord Serul, KIA in misinformed Imperial bombing run… Hirun Bessiker, executed by Republic captors… DARTH YLENDA, executed for incompetence?! Agent, if even half of these attributed deaths are true, Lord Kallig has been demonstrating the skills of a Cipher agent and the bloodthirst of a Sith. I don't mind saying that the idea is unsettling."

"I invite you to look into each of them," Telkwa offered, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I'd like your opinion on which ones were personally committed and which ones were the result of manipulation. I found it tough to tell."

Lokin nodded distractedly, still skimming the document. After another few minutes of silence, he asked, "agent, would you mind sending me the rest of the information you have on Lord Kallig?"

Telkwa's lips went thin. "Doctor," he tried, "all I really wanted was your opinion on the psychology of a woman who could live the life we suspect Lord Kallig has been. It's really not necessary-"

"I insist," Lokin replied, voice still deceptively conversational.

"These deaths are technically within the bounds of Sith politics," Telkwa tried, but he trailed off when the doctor turned to look at him. Maybe Telkwa could always see the man's expression, but that didn't change the chill that ran down his spine at the feeling Lokin gave off. All the young spy could do was nod and input a command for all previous iterations of Kallig's file to be sent to Lokin's terminal. "I can have the next one to you within the hour," he said.

Then he turned to leave.

"Agent," Lokin called after him.

Telkwa didn't turn. It wasn't necessary, and there was no reason to pretend it was. Lokin had turned to face him, and he fully appeared to be giving parting words of wisdom, rather than continuing the conversation.

"It's my professional opinion," Lokin said, "and my experience, that a woman like Kallig, if she is as you describe, is unlikely to be completely sane. I hope you've developed some theories for who she is underneath the deception. I would be very interested in seeing what's occurred to you."

Telkwa nodded and went to complete his profile.

Perhaps there would have to be a ninth edition of Kallig's profile. Not that it mattered. All that mattered was that he understood the Sith well enough to decide between using her – serum or no – or killing her. It was perfect that, by the time Lokin completed his research, there would be no one in the galaxy who knew her better than Eckard Lokin and Telkwa Thema.


	6. Chapter 6

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…

There were two nations at war. One, a republic built on freedom and equality, its only weakness the division those qualities allowed. The other, a tyrannical empire led by a council of power-mad demigods.

On a planet in the black heart of this Empire was a dark city, and in that city was a building that radiated evil.

Within that building, the center of power. The seat of the Dark Council.

In the room of the Dark Council, under a grand vaulted sealing and surrounded by a dozen forbidding thrones, a single woman stood against the Dark Council.

She did not, as any good soul should, stand in defiance of them. Instead, she wreathed herself in power and fought to join them. Fought, because there was only one way to join the Dark Council.

The Dark Council did not grow, nor shrink. Twelve spheres of influence controlled the whole of the Empire, and twelve Dark Lords of the Sith led those spheres. To join the Council, one did not add to the their numbers.

To join the Council, the aspirant would have to replace one of its demigods.

Lord Kallig stood before Darth Thanaton of the Dark Council and was unable to hide a sneer. This was the master of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge? This was the man who'd dogged her heels on her ascent to power? Who'd come within a miracle of killing her on at least two occasions?

This was a man who helped preserve a galaxy of injustice, hatred, and slavery.

And he sniveled.

Not aloud, of course. No leader of sentients, no rival to his fellow Dark Council members, would ever be so disgraceful. But in his mind, Darth Thanaton cried out in frustration and horror as his attacks were swept aside or ignored entirely, as his defenses proved inadequate and crumbled. He raged at the Council for refusing to help him. He scorned his own soldiers, who'd been unable to stop Kallig's victory in the Kaggath challenge. He all but wept at the desecration of those traditions that would have kept an alien like her from ever laying covetous eyes upon the seat of a Council member.

In his mind, Darth Thanaton blamed everyone but himself for his failure. Kallig saw it, had seen it from the moment she entered the room.

It was, after all, her specialty. Her will reached out and wormed its way into the minds of others, doing what came naturally – asking questions, forcing answers, bending the logic and emotions of those she met, even for a brief time.

Thanaton had no idea how close he was, at any given moment, from victory. How a single unanticipated strike would take Kallig's life, or a ritual allowed the proper concentration would wipe her from the face of the galaxy. He only knew that his strikes were turned aside, his powers responded poorly, his every machination seemed to go awry at just the right moment for Kallig to take advantage. That was good, because Kallig was using every trick and all her concentration to stay alive.

Well, every trick but one.

Time for the finale. The show was what would convince the Council to accept her, not something as worthless as a fight to the death. Thanaton's lightning cracked through the air, blindingly bright and yet oppressive in nature. Every arc scorched the ground around Kallig or was absorbed into her static barriers, and Thanaton grit his teeth to keep from roaring in frustration.

Then Kallig pulled her mind out of Thanaton's and felt instantly the cleaner for it. The lightning hit, and the only thing that kept Kallig from screaming was her muscles spasming as the electricity shot through them. A copper taste told the twi'lek that she'd bitten off the tip of her own tongue. She didn't feel the pain over the agony of the Force power washing over her and through her body.

It didn't matter. Having freed Thanaton she, in turn, was free of him. Her mind instantly went to the only allies she would allow in this fight.

 _Darth Andru._

 _I am here, little snake._

 _Lord Ergast._

 _As you will._

 _Kalatosh._

 _Yes, yes._

 _Horak Mul._

 _Heh. About time._

Power welled up in her, and the lightning became a distant thing from the uncleanliness of her own body. The filth of the four monsters she'd allowed to make their homes within her. The four spirits took form, flickering at her sides, then exploded into pure energy that she took into herself in its purest form.

And then the time for subtlety was over. She raised her hand, and the lightning cut off as Darth Thanaton slammed backwards into the wall of the room. He stood and charged, swinging his lightsaber with all his strength. With a single raised finger, she stopped it dead in its path.

 _How disappointing,_ Ergast commented. Then he, and in turn she, and in turn they all, reached out and took hold of Thanaton's body with the Force. Slowly, deliberately, they pressed him into the ground. After seconds of agony for the Darth, he knelt on hands and knees before her. For a moment, Kallig rejoiced, exulting in her mastery over the Sith, smiling at the idea of him serving her, enslaved by-

She stopped herself, did her very best to purge the darkness from her mind while still holding on to the ghosts' power. She stepped back. Thanaton's eyes glowed as he gathered power for some new attack she wouldn't be able to sense while staying outside of his mind.

So she didn't. She took hold of the power of Andru, Ergast, Zavros, and Mul, and she guided it in a way that, of them, only she understood. She broke through the Sith's defenses like lightning through air, and then she broke him.

He tried to hold on. Some part of him managed to turn his body and crawl away. It picked up the nearly-empty husk and dragged it towards the rest of the Council, grunting and gasping in pain and confusion.

Whatever the Dark Council saw or felt in the Force as Thanaton arrived at their feet, it was Darth Mortis of the Sphere of Laws and Justice who acted. He looked down on his colleague with regret, or sympathy, or maybe just pity, and whispered a quiet apology. Then he reached down and broke the dead man's neck.

The Dark Council spoke amongst itself for a moment, precious seconds that Kallig took to collect herself.

 _Go,_ she commanded the ghosts. And they left, subsiding into that realm just to the back of her mind, where they could do no harm unless she willed it.

She stood, straight, tall, and defiant, before the rest of the Dark Council. Her body was in agony. She'd had to swallow the tip of her tongue to keep from choking on it. Her power and mind were utterly exhausted. But she was victorious and the Council would know it. It was time for their decision. If it was their will, if they decided an alien, or a Lord, or a woman, or whatever they saw her as, was unworthy to take her death-right, then this would be the end. Not she, nor her loyal monster at the door, or her apprentices waiting on the floor below, or even the crazy pirate who followed her, would stand against the Dark Council for long.

That was for lat-

Kallig schooled her thoughts. She truly was exhausted. Normally, it was as easy to breath as it was to carry on the li-

The Dark Council began in the year 1237 BSC but didn't gain its eleventh seat until 1201, and it took until 1138 BSC before the Sphere of Sith Philosphy came to be…

Better.

Darth Mortis approached Lord Kallig, and her lekku twitched in a way she couldn't control, but knew he couldn't read.

Darth Mortis nodded his head respectfully and gestured towards the Throne of Ancient Knowledge.

"My Lord. Your seat."

Kallig's eyes widened a fraction. She looked to the others, who all let their emotions show clearly on their faces. "My lord," she replied to Mortis, giving a deep bow, "this is everything I've ever dreamed of. Frankly, I'm a bit overwhelmed."

The hulking, masked form of Darth Marr waved a hand dismissively. "You just defeated a member of the Dark Council in single combat. You have clearly prepared for this day."

Another man, a human with greying hair and a look of indignation, said, "she's only a lord! You can't put a lord on the Dark Council."

It was true, but with an obvious solution.

"Quiet, Ravage," Marr barked, "she's earned her place."

At a gesture from him, the four of the council present formed up around her. A thrill of fear went through Kallig, and she suppressed the urge to peek into one of their minds. Bad enough she could barely control her thoughts; there was no way they were untrained enough to let her into theirs unnoticed.

Darth Marr, the clear leader, stepped forward and faced her directly. He raised his arms portentously and spoke.

"By order of the Dark Council and in light of your inscrutable reputation, you are now Darth Occlus."

Occlus.

Inscrutable reputation.

In spite of herself, Kallig's mind leapt, not to another's, but to her past.

"You won't have me," growled the ghost of Darth Andru. "This is my last stronghold. And I will not be your slave."

Maybe it was that word. Maybe it was her fear of the Sith's power if it ever broke free. Maybe she thought it would be easier to control. But she knew what it wasn't, knew what she admitted to herself in memory but not at the time.

To the ghost of Andru, Kallig had said, "I will free you when I'm done."

And, rather than enslavement, a bargain had been struck.

When asked, she'd told Khem Val that she made the deal out of respect for a great Sith Lord. He'd believed her, and his respect for her had grown just a fraction. And why not? She'd only spoken the truth. After a fashion.

After all, what greater weapon is there than to turn an enemy to your cause? To use their own knowledge against them?

Khem agreed with her sentiment, being a relic of the past himself, and he rested easier in the future, believing he knew that little bit more about his "little Sith".

Kallig stood over the corpse of Lord Althe.

Her owner.

She couldn't help it. A grin spread across her face, and she turned to share it with Andronikos. The pirate gave a grunt and nodded to her. He knew revenge.

She'd given him a weak excuse about performing an assassination for the Revanites, a kill that gave them more power over a particular sect of the Sith.

He'd known it was a lie. What he hadn't known was that she'd intended for him to know. Later, when they'd "grown closer," she revealed to him why she'd killed Althe, told him about the revenge, and laughed over the victory.

First, he thought he knew her. Then, he thought she confided in him.

Perfect trust, because he knew her better than she knew herself.

She leaned into the console, watching two fleets battle in the distance. The Republic and Darth Achelon's forces.

If the Silencer superweapon fired now, both would be wiped out. Tens of thousands of deaths on her hands.

The Republic fleet was doomed. She had no choice, if her goal was the Dark Council. Without a successful test, there would be no Silencer. Without the Silencer, the moffs would not support her. So the Republic fleet would be the test.

And the Imperial fleet? Thanaton's forces, and led by a Sith Lord. A despotic monster with power he had never earned. Not that she'd ever met, or even heard of, Darth Achelon.

One didn't need to pick up a clod of earth to know it was dirty.

The Imperial fleet wasn't just made up of Sith, though. Thousands of soldiers served on those ships, fighting their misguided war.

The Republic fleet was a necessary sacrifice. Kallig's choice, then, was whether Darth Achelon was worth thousands of lives – Imperial lives, but lives nonetheless.

"Tell Darth Achelon," she began. Then she met Talos' eyes, his enthusiastic, hopeful eyes as he watched his favourite Sith Lord make her play for power.

She continued smoothly, without a change in tone or expression, "to pull his fleet back. We will deal with the Republic."

Later, she hadn't said anything about her dilemma. She hadn't mentioned how Talos had shown her the truth of the Imperial people. She hadn't even thanked Talos for being there while she murdered thousands of unsuspecting Republic soldiers. Instead, she told the archaeologist that she'd made the choice for the good of the Empire. That the strength of the Empire was in its shows of faith and the willingness of the Sith to work together. And he had believed her. After all, he knew her too well to believe otherwise.

Then Lord Kallig – no, Darth Occlus – Darth Occlus returned to herself, looking into the red and black mask of Darth Marr. She bowed, never taking her eyes off the man.

Occlus, he'd named her. For occlusion, the act of blocking somebody's vision.

It was a testament to Darth Marr's perception that he'd named her so after only having just met her. It proved she would have to be much more cautious around him than any other. Because Darth Marr understood intuitively something that nobody else did. Not Khem Val and Zash, not Talos Drellik or Ashaara Zavros. Even the Emperor's Wrath and his little grey jedi pet, who'd been so susceptible to her unique brand of "negotiation", thought they knew her better than any other.

But there was one thing Darth Occlus had made sure of ever since she discovered her power.

Nobody knew her at all.


End file.
